


In Whom I Find Protection

by ryukoishida



Series: In You my Heart Trusts [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tachibana family is holding a party in honour of their company's 20th anniversary. It's a boring party, so Makoto and his trusty bodyguard decide to find their own kind of entertainment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Whom I Find Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of “My Strength, My Shield” and “My Fortress, My Saviour”, so it’s probably a good idea to read that first. Nothing but self-indulgent suited up SouMako doing the do; I’m not sorry at all.

            "Sousuke, where are you taking me? Father's about to do his big speech!" Makoto exclaims in a hushed tone as he is being practically dragged out of the hotel's great hall by his bodyguard.

 

            They pass by a small group of extravagantly dressed ladies and gentlemen on their way out, and the two men promptly display their default expressions in a practiced smoothness: Sousuke with his cold, disinterested scowl and Makoto with his contrasting warm and friendly smile, though both seem a little too unnatural, but as social courtesy pertains, nobody says anything and the two of them get past without trouble.

 

            Once the chattering group disappears behind them around the corner, Sousuke winds firm fingers around Makoto's wrist and begins pulling him forward once more, as if there is something urgent he must do and not a moment should be wasted. 

 

           Despite his injuries from about a month ago, with the occasional grumbled complaints about his sore shoulder, Sousuke is still as physically intimidating as ever, and Makoto is having a hard time catching up to his hurried steps towards god-knows-where, his carefully styled hair falling into a disarray and his cheeks rosy with exertion. 

 

            "S-Sousuke!" He tries again but the taller man only continues to drag him harder, and the skin around his wrist is starting to burn from the man's vice-like clasp. "Seriously, what's gotten into you? Oi!"

 

            Before the brunet can voice out another comment, however, Sousuke has already led them into the –

 

            "...The restroom? Wha--?"

 

            With startling speed that would put the other guards of the Tachibana household to shame, Sousuke whirls around and shoves the slightly shorter man against the door with an audible thud and a groan from Makoto, and in a fluid movement, Sousuke clicks the door locked behind them.

 

            In the yellow-golden lighting, Makoto watches in silent bewilderment as the dark-haired man goes further inside and checks each stall to make sure they are truly alone. After deeming the situation satisfied, Sousuke returns to his side, teal eyes darkening with something akin to animalistic glint and a corner of his lips curving upwards with purpose. His slouched back and the way his towering figure – the black suit that hugs him in all the right places and accentuates his powerful stature – stalks towards him remind Makoto of a prowling panther on the verge to pounce on an oblivious prey.

 

            “Sousuke? Why did you lock the door? There might be people who need to use the washroom!”

 

            “There’s another one down the other end of the hallway,” Sousuke seems unperturbed, only keeps going forward until he has Makoto cornered against the wall, planting his arms on either side of the brunet and lowering his head so that he can look into those slightly alarmed jade eyes.

 

            “Um.” Makoto is unnerved by Sousuke’s close proximity, not to mention his strangely tactless behaviour and the hunger in his eyes that’s simply enough to swallow him alive. Makoto gulps noisily, choking out a shaky, “W-what?”

 

            “You don’t know how you look right now, do you?” Sousuke whispers in his ear, every word sending warm breaths against his sensitive skin there, and he shudders, eyes slipping close and brain going momentarily short-circuit.

 

            “We should return to the party,” Makoto tells him, though even his voice hardly sounds persuasive to his own ears.

 

            “But it’s so _boring_ ,” Sousuke whines, lips moving to the spot right behind Makoto’s ear as his thumb traces up and down the pulse point on the other man’s wrist, and it’s thrilling to feel the frenzied thrumming against his fingertips that betray the words coming out of Makoto’s mouth. “Wouldn’t you rather we do something else instead?”

 

            They are now chest-to-chest, and the suits they’re donning – a sleek, simple black one with a matching tie on Sousuke, and a charcoal grey, elegantly cut one with a black button-up shirt and a skinny, mint-green satin tie on Makoto – are at once suffocating and alluring.

 

            “Be that as it may,” Makoto turns his head away, arms stubbornly staying by his side but his hands are already balled up into fists as he fights to control himself. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

 

            “Mm. I’m doing it right now,” Sousuke nuzzles along Makoto’s neck, peppering his skin with open-mouthed kisses; he chuckles when he feels the man’s resolve finally melts, strong arms tightly encircling his waist to bring the taller man closer. Sousuke’s got no complaint there. “My only assignment for tonight is to keep you out of trouble, right? That means I can do it anywhere – whether it’s at the tedious party where all the pretty ladies get to openly ogle at you, or I can do so right here, where it’s significantly more exciting… and private.”

 

            “Didn’t think you’d be the type,” Makoto only replies, and sighs when Sousuke nips him at a particularly sensitive spot directly below his ear.

 

            “Your lack of self-awareness amazes me at times, Mr. Tachibana.”

 

            When Makoto senses belatedly that Sousuke is not kissing his neck anymore, he slowly lets his eyes open, dazed, and finds the man staring at him with amusement dancing silently across his teal irises – an emotion not often observed in the usually stoic bodyguard.

 

            “S-stop with the formality already!” Makoto’s eyes are downcast, cheeks tinting pink though his arms are still hanging loosely around Sousuke’s shoulder.

 

            “I don’t know about that, _sir_ ,” Sousuke purrs, knowing exactly which buttons to push to rile the brunet up, and it’s working exceptionally well, since the phrase seems to have caused a half-flustered, half-frustrated Makoto to pull him down to his eye level with a firm tug of his black tie, their foreheads touching.

 

            His darkened gaze strays between Sousuke’s waiting eyes and slightly parted lips, his intention clear as day, but Sousuke is not done yet. “You look good enough to _eat_ – with your damned fancy suit and especially that fucking tie – and you don’t even realize it.”

 

            With that said, Sousuke allows the other man to pull him forward at long last, and their lips are clashing messily, all graces casted off. There are fingers running through tousled hair and nails scratching down the back of the other’s neck in an urgency that’s almost instinctive with raw desire. Before long, both men are panting heavily, lips kiss-swollen and skin marred with red that will bruise purple before the night is out, but still, it’s not enough.

 

            Sousuke manoeuvres them steadily towards the inner corner of the room, where a full-length mirror is set as replacement of the fourth wall so that patrons of the hotel can make sure their wardrobe are in excellent order before heading back out in the public, and adjacent to the mirror-wall that sits at precisely a forty-five degree angle is a scarlet leather divan with silver ornate legs that looks almost out of place in a men’s restroom.

 

            With a bit of a gentle shove, Sousuke gets Makoto to lounge on the backless couch, and follows to straddle the bench himself as he looms over to bring their mouths together again, this time with more teeth dragging against lower lips and scorching skin, and hair pulling that causes the brunet to moan nonsensical syllables and shiver as Sousuke’s hands trail lower and lower – a touch on the exposed collar bone when he loosens the tie, down his sides – until they rest on Makoto’s hips.

 

            This is when Makoto seems to suddenly wake up from whatever hazy state of mind he was in, dark green eyes glancing down at where Sousuke is now hovering over his lower body with a slow, devious smile on his lips, his dexterous fingers, usually so skilful at wielding his katana in a flourished dance of grace and blood or pulling the trigger that easily takes enemies’ lives, are working his belt buckle loose.

 

            Makoto clasps a hand around Sousuke’s wrist, halting his movements. “Wait, wait.” What the hell are they doing? They’re in a public restroom of a five-star hotel, and they’re about to do what Makoto fears – and maybe just a teensy bit looking forward to it, too.

 

            “What?” Sousuke glances up, neither annoyed nor particularly happy at being interrupted. When he observes Makoto’s almost anxious expression, however, his tone softens, “What is it, Makoto?”

 

            “We-we shouldn’t – not here,” Makoto is babbling and probably not making much sense, his ability to speak seeming to have evaporated the moment Sousuke has laid his hands on him. He knows it but when he tries to sit up, supported by his arms, and sees Sousuke’s teal eyes looking back up at him with such open earnestness, and lips invitingly wet and red, he has an even more difficult time voicing out his thoughts.

 

            “Why not?” Sousuke wants to know, hands having migrated to Makoto’s inner thighs, thumbs reverently caressing there, and he can feel those long legs quivering in return. “You… don’t want to?”

 

           Perhaps his spontaneous decision is not such a good idea after all. He honestly hasn’t think it through enough, and now Makoto is going to mistakenly think of him as some sort of pervert who likes to do lewd things in public – like an exhibitionist! Sousuke, among other things, is certainly not one for PDA, and is definitely not a fan of doing intimate activities in public places.

 

            He blames Makoto Tachibana and his goddamn suit, and that goddamn smile, and those goddamn eyes that glitter a pretty shade of emerald when he’s happy…or turned on. Sousuke swears he used to have better self-control than this.

 

            “It’s not that I don’t want to…” Makoto replies, scratching his cheek and avoiding Sousuke’s questioning gaze. “But there are people milling around outside, and someone might ­­­ ”

 

            “The door’s locked,” Sousuke reminds him calmly, “and if you’re afraid someone might hear us, I don’t know about you, but I know I won’t be making much noise with what I’m about to do to you.” Makoto isn’t sure if Sousuke’s being a sneaky bastard or if it’s just a coincidence, but after releasing that last bit of highly suggestive information, the man still looming over him has the decency to lick his lips almost eagerly, as if he couldn’t wait to get a taste of him.

 

            Makoto groans, burying his blushing face in one hand, and Sousuke laughs.

 

            When the sound of his laughter dies down, though a fond smile is still evident, Sousuke gently pries Makoto’s fingers away from his face, and laces them with his own. He brushes a thumb gently across Makoto’s cheek, and cradles the side of his face. “If you really don’t feel comfortable about this, we can stop.”

 

            The brunet releases a slow breath, and gradually props his head against the wall, a hand on the back of Sousuke’s neck as he gives the other man a small, timid smile. Viewing that as a hesitant invitation, Sousuke leans down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Let me know if you want to stop, okay?”

 

            Makoto nods, shifting so that he can kiss Sousuke properly on the lips – a light peck, but an affirmation nevertheless.

 

            With watchful eyes trained on Makoto’s flushing face, Sousuke begins to rub his clothed erection in an teasingly slow pace, smirking when the man screws his eyes shut at the sensation, all thoughts lost save for his touches, and an embarrassingly high-pitched whine – something between a “please” and the unrecognizable sound of Sousuke’s name – tears out of his throat.

 

            Taking that as an encouragement, the dark-haired man unbuckles Makoto’s belt with practiced ease, and slips his pants and underwear out of the way, releasing his flushed cock, the tip already leaking pre-cum.

 

            Still mindful of Makoto’s worry, Sousuke mouths at his length experimentally, occasionally licking when he senses the shivers he’s causing, and it’s when Makoto’s fingers unexpectedly wind into his hair and _pull_ as he bites his lower lip sore that makes Sousuke totally lost it.

 

            With renewed fervour, Sousuke pushes the brunet’s legs further apart to give himself more room to settle in between, one hand loosely circling around the base of Makoto’s cock while the other one is pressing on his hip to keep the man from shifting around too much, and he takes the tip into his mouth, tasting salt – not entirely unpleasant in itself.

 

            “Ah,” Makoto exclaims when he feels the wet heat of Sousuke’s mouth, a hand clamped across the lower half of his face to keep himself from moaning too loud, and Sousuke thinks to himself that once they are able to do this in actual privacy, he will do as much as he can to draw out all sorts of sounds from Makoto.

 

            “It’s unhealthy to keep it in, you know,” Sousuke comments nonchalantly before diving back down and swallow more of Makoto, which earns him a satisfying choked-out, muffled shout of “s-shut up”.

 

            Where his mouth can’t reach, Sousuke uses his hand, pulling up and down in a steady rhythm while his mouth switches between sucking him off with all he’s got and licking while humming his appreciation.

 

            “S-Sousuke, fuck,” Makoto sobs, head banging against the wall as he shakes uncontrollably, hips thrusting to seek more but unable to. His hands are planted firmly on his shoulder and in his hair. He’s no longer pulling at the blue-black strands, but only holding his head in place, which Sousuke doesn’t mind. “A-almost there…” he whispers as a warning, attempting to push Sousuke away but he won’t budge.

 

            Instead, Makoto’s heavy panting and incoherent moans only serves to drive Sousuke into sucking with more zeal. His jaw is starting to ache, but to hear Makoto falling apart and saying his name repeatedly with such heat and passion like some sort of prayer because of him is so worth it.

 

            When Makoto comes, it’s fingers grasping desperately on Sousuke’s upper arms, the strength with which he clenches is enough to leave bruises there, but Sousuke is swallowing, relishing the way the brunet trembles as he rides out his orgasm. He brushes Sousuke’s sweat-soaked forelocks away with a shivering hand, a trembling but satisfied smile on his lips when his bodyguard lets go of his softening cock with an indecent wet ‘pop’.

 

            Sousuke wipes his mouth with the heel of his hand while his other hand holds Makoto’s as if it’s the most natural thing to do after giving an enthusiastic blowjob.

 

            They don’t hold hands much – certainly not when Sousuke’s working – which never bothers him before.

 

            Makoto’s jade eyes have a “come-hither” look, and Sousuke crawls up to lay a lingering kiss on those lips, the tongue that darts out to lick his stinging lower lip still tasting faintly of Makoto. The brunet sighs longingly, eyes slipping closed, and at the almost dazed, sleepy expression on his face, Sousuke can’t help but chuckle.

 

            He probably won’t be able to stop for awhile, and Makoto is still able to muster up enough energy to pout since he’s sure the man is laughing at him, but they are both interrupted by a harsh beeping from Sousuke’s pocket.

 

            Exhaling through his nose with an air of annoyance, Sousuke sits up and digs out his phone.

 

            “Sousuke Yamazaki, where the fuck are you?” The voice on the other end begins to scream before Sousuke can even put the phone near his ear.

 

            “Rin, calm down,” Sousuke drawls, his gaze still lingering on the flustered Makoto as he tries to make himself more presentable. While he lets Rin rants on whatever it is that he’s pissed off about (he has a feeling it has to do with him disappearing off with his charge), he reaches out to touch the spot under Makoto’s left ear, slightly hidden by cinnamon brown strands, where a spot of red from when Sousuke has sucked his skin particularly hard earlier is beginning to bloom. Makoto shivers at the gentle touch, green eyes darting to him in alarm, and Sousuke merely grins easily at him.

 

            He stands up to fix his pants, his back towards Sousuke so that it forces the bodyguard to actually hear what his team leader and best friend is saying. “What did you say again?”

 

            “I said, put on your goddamn headset, you jerk,” Rin isn’t even yelling anymore, much to Sousuke’s relief, and he hears Rin sighs in resignation. “I’ve been trying to contact you for the last ten minutes. Mr. Sasabe said that his team spots some suspicious individuals loitering around the hotel entrance, and he needs everyone to pay extra attention. So can you bring Mr. Makoto back to the great hall where we can all keep an eye to make sure everyone’s safe?”

 

            “Aye, aye,” Sousuke replies drily and without waiting for Rin’s answer, he clicks his phone shut. He pops on his headset and secures his katana back on his waist, before finding Makoto all dressed properly save for his lop-sided tie, which the brunet is still attempting to fix but to no avail.

 

            “Let me, sunshine,” Sousuke pushes his clumsy fingers away, and Makoto lets him but he’s frowning at the nickname that his bodyguard occasionally uses when nobody’s around. He says nothing, momentarily distracted by the taller man’s proximity and the sole concentration he’s putting on fixing his tie.

 

            “Was that Rin? He sounded angry.”

 

            “He’s just mad that I took you away from all the prying eyes,” his teal eyes have a playful glint as he ties a perfect knot before tightening it at his throat, causing Makoto’s breath to catch; he glares at Sousuke accusingly but he just shrugs with another blasé smile.

 

            “He’s mad because you’re not doing your job,” Makoto points out.

 

            Sousuke doesn’t deny it, and pats the silk tie flat on his chest to signify that he’s done.

 

            “There.” He takes a step back.

 

            “Thank you, Sousuke,” Makoto says with smiling green eyes and that simple ‘thank you’ seems to convey gratitude that extends beyond tying his tie.

 

            It’s these moments that Sousuke never knows how to respond other than feeling an uncomfortable flush on his cheeks; he turns his head to the side, lower lip caught between his teeth, and takes Makoto’s hand without a warning.

 

            “Sousuke?”

 

            “Come on, let’s go, or Rin’s going to have my head,” Sousuke only says, unlocking the door and pulling them out of the room.

 

            As the two of them make their way back to the party, still hand-in-hand, Makoto can hear whispering from the people they pass by; the looks these people give them didn’t escape Sousuke either but as usual, he hardly cares what other people think. If anything, his grasp on Makoto’s hand becomes even tighter.

 

            Makoto glances at him from the corner of his eye, taking note of the firm downturn of those lips that have been kissing him breathless not five minutes ago, and although he knows that they’ll have to let each other go once they enter another room full of familiar people, Makoto still feels warmth fills his inside – it’s heavy but not suffocating: a solid presence, like a wall, that Makoto knows will always protect him from harm.

 

            There are many layers to this wall, and the more Makoto gets to know him, the more it crumbles down, but instead of weakening it, it only reveals to be made out of a substance that is not of this world: something that is entirely Sousuke Yamazaki, body and soul.

 

            It won’t be an easy road. Being the eldest son of the Tachibana family, Makoto is raised to be aware of the danger he and his family are constantly in, but with Sousuke by his side for as long as he’s willing to stay, Makoto is certain that they will make it work. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is shit. [sobs] But I really want to finish this and just move on to my other pieces so yeah. I’m sorry.


End file.
